


Hunting A Wolf

by ClockworkCryptid



Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: CORE, F/M, Hunting, Kissing, Restraint, Rough Kissing, Rough Sex, Violence, bound hands, chase - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-30
Updated: 2020-03-30
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:41:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23399389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClockworkCryptid/pseuds/ClockworkCryptid
Summary: You are a seasoned survivor, swift and efficient the trials. When you awaken one night you find yourself fighting against monsters you could have never anticipated, finding the worst the ones you kept closest. In your escape you earn the favour of The Trapper, and he spares you.
Relationships: Evan MacMillan | The Trapper/Reader, Evan MacMillan | The Trapper/You
Comments: 9
Kudos: 132





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> *Contains a scene where the reader is attacked and nearly assaulted, please use discretion when reading this fic as it may trigger some readers.

Warmth eased your tired muscles, as you sat heavy lidded by the fireside. You had just finished a trial against The Wraith; fortunately you had escaped but not without receiving a nice bludgeoning blow to the back.

Fortunately the damage was minimal; and you were seasoned enough to generally void severe harm.

This was your safe place- along with the other survivors. As each trial concluded you would enter a brisk and dark wooded forest, to be greeted by a roaring fire. Here you would rest in the grass, and let your wounds mend. You didn't know what magic was at work, but they were always gone by the time you began the next trial.

This realm was strange, you didn't need to eat, or drink, or use the washroom for that matter. Occasionally there would be supplies near the fire, tool boxes or flashlights, and camping foods like marshmallows or hotdogs. You were usually awarded these with a good trial; ones where you had saved your companions, or fixed generator upon generator…

The only downside was that you couldn’t sleep. The moment you began to rest, when your eyes closed; that’s when the next trial would start. The fog would swirl around your sleeping form, plunging you into some other horrible trial. Tired, you lay on your side. Nobody else graced your side tonight. They had all either died or escaped long before you, and so you were left to your own devices.

Don’t sleep. You thought to yourself, trying to focus. You thought back to your old life. Trying to remember your friends faces. That was another thing about these trials, even when you died, you didn't really die. But you would feel the pain, oh god the pain, and when you awoke by the fire again there would always be something missing. Memories.

If you were lucky it was something inconsequential; your first grade teachers name, the last thing you ate for dinner; other times it was worse- your mother’s voice, your best friends name. Whole fight erupted sometimes at the fireside; she remember one instance where a younger guy, Dwight was it? Had left an older man to die on the hook, when they met at the fire later that night he broke Dwight’s nose, as he had forgotten his husband face.

Your thoughts wandered as you gazed at the shimmering coals, vision darkening. You fought to keep your eyes open but tiredness consumed you.

A sudden jolt had you opening your eyes, and you gazed around suddenly.

Shit.

Another trial. You were wide awake and wired, every muscle tensed and ready to move. Your gaze scanned the surrounding environment and you recognized the MacMillan Estate.

Damn it… This place is huge. You thought miserably, setting a brisk pace in a half crouch. You were in some type of woods near the edge of the property, and in the distance you could see the smelting factory; a massive an ominous ghost of a silhouette. The breeze carried along it’s groaning whispers, as the metal creaked in the cold.

You could see the flickering lights of a generator, and made for it. Someone was already at work on it, busily mending wires.

“Hey.” You said softly, approaching the man. You didn't recognize him, he was tall; broad shouldered and sported a beard. He glanced at you for a moment, then stopped looking you over again.

You didn’t like the way he looked at you.

“Ben.” He said once, offering you a slanted smile. “Y/n.” You said in turn, offering a nod before beginning again on the generator. As he mended wires you set to work realigning the cogs. Somewhere near to you a generator snarled into action, followed shortly by your own.

Your hair prickled and you stood, the killer was near. Ducking behind a low wall, you crawled a few paces, seeing the coast clear you sprinted across the expanse of field between you and the next outcropping of debrish.

Somewhere to your right there was a metallic snap, followed by a loud female scream.  
You strained your neck to see a girl who you recognized as Feng Min. You recognized her as a lone wolf; not often giving anyone pause for help. But you couldn't just let her suffer. She reminded you of yourself.

Running across the field towards her you sprung to her aid. Hot on your tail was Ben, who you had kind of hoped would piss off to another generator. Oh well, strength in numbers or whatever right?

Placing a hand on either side of the trap, you pushed, finding the rusted contraption not giving. Ben came up behind you, uncomfortably close, and he leaned in, placing his hands atop of yours. He was practically spooning you. He pressed down and the trap gave, and Feng leapt to her feet, darting away from the two of you without so much as a word.

You sighed, stepping away from Ben and turning to run back to your original course, as you rose, you saw a figure no more than twenty paces behind you.

“Jesus!” You gasped, that man- the killer you assumed, was fucking huge.

He had to be at least 6’5 maybe even 7 feet tall, with shoulders wide enough to blot out the scenery behind him. His face was obscured by a smiling mask, that gazed back them with tiny black eye holes filled with predatory desire.

He raised a large, gnarled cleaver in a hurrah, and you wasted no time in booking it away from him. As you ran another man joined you, who briskly clapped hands with Ben.

“Hey buddy.” The other man grinned. Your trio made a wide arc round the side of the Smelting plant, ducking inside a window to repair another generator. The three of you made swift work of it, moving on the next with great haste.

Despite the progress you felt uneasy, Ben and his friend- Anthony was his name- kept exchanging looks in your direction.

Your form low, you made your way to one of the shattered windows at the back of the building. Ben and Anthony went ahead first, and you were just stepping out when someone outside screamed. You hesitating, backing into the building again, only to hear a low growl.

Immediately turning you saw the killer again; Trapper you dubbed him- based upon his hunting methods. He was eyeing the generator, his gaze following the muddy prints you and your companions had left. It rested on you, and he began stalking towards you, threateningly slow.

Panic swelled within you and you turned away from the window- he would expect you to run through there. Besides, Ben and Anthony needed time to escape. Feet slipping on the floor you dashed around one of the large shelves that filled the storage throwing down a dull palette that crossed your path.

Your heart was pounding, your adrenaline flowing, and you found yourself smiling deviously. You watched the man from across the palette and he regarded you with what you could guess was curiosity. As he made to walk around the palette to your left, you ran in the opposite direction, trading places. He tried again, counterclockwise this time, and you followed in suit. You were feeling ballsy, and you regarded him again from the side opposite the palette. Still grinning.

At this he raised his cleaver, smashing the palettes in one swing.

“Ah shit.” You hissed, turning tail and running in the opposite direction. This time you took the window, diving out with reckless abandon, before dodging to the side, behind a barrel adjacent the window.

Trapper follow, ducking out the window as his form flooded it. You had a hand over your mouth the muffle your panting breath. He stood still for a while, surveying the land, before strolling off into the direction of a generator, whose lights beamed on as it started up.

As his figure faded you stood, satisfied you were safe. In the distance someone screamed, followed immediately by another; belonging to a mysterious third, and you ran in the opposite direction.

From the forest, a shadowy face beckoned you, and you thought you recognized Ben; he must have found another generator. In a crouch, you made your way over, careful as you moved through the long grass. You met up with him and he smiled ear to ear, leading the way deeper into the trees.

A generator was amongst the darkened woods, and you kneeled beside it. Just as you found began wiping up some leaking coolant, someone grabbed you by the shoulders, throwing you to the ground. At first you thought it was the killer, but shock filled your gaze as you realized it was Anthony.

Ben filled his place, grabbing your wrists, and shoving a dirty rag in you mouth.

What the fuck? What was happening? Were they insane?

You thought frantically, you tried to scream but it came out muffled in the oily rag. Anthony grabbed at the hem of your pants and you tried to kick him. He was strong, so insanely strong, despite being smaller than Ben. The fingers that dug at your sides were sharp, as if he sported claws. You searched his face, struggling, and seeing only malice. The whites of his eyes were veined with black.

Jerking your head around you dislodged the rag, spitting into Ben’s face. He yelled in surprise, releasing his grib just enough for you to pull free as he wiped his eyes. Fumbling for something, you grabbed the flashlight at his waist, and socked Anthony in the throat with it.

He seemed stunned, but did not release you. Your mouth fell open as a huge shape emerged from the brush; the Trapper. He was splattered with blood, with one huge hand he grabbed Anthony, tearing him away from you in a move that left thin bloody lines on either side of your hips.

You didn’t care, backpedaling you watched in utter shock as Anthony struggled free. His arms had bulked up, and his hands were black, sporting wicked claws. It was if he was mid way into turning into a monster.

He slashed at the Trapper, those wicked claws scoring lines into the killer’s forearm. Despite this the mass of a man didn’t bat an eye, instead he grabbed Anthony by the shoulder, using his other arm to line of the cleaver, before bringing it down in a swipe that more or less bisected the man. Gore splashed onto you and you stood, turning away and running. 

Your whole body shook, and you just ran. Somewhere another generator started up, and far ahead you could see the gates beginning to part. Feng must have been hard at working as the whole fiasco went down; you hadn't even heard the machines start up.

You were vaguely conscious of Ben running beside you, you were too shocked to speak to him. He had a wound you noted, causing him to limp a little slower than you. Feng eyes the two of you as you approached, before turning pale and vanishing through the gates.

You glanced behind you to see the Trapper, gaining steadily on you. Ben stumbled and you moved to leave. Something in you seemed to hold you back, and you found yourself turning to help.

You didn't know why, he had been an accomplice in your assault. Still, you grabbed his wrist and dragged him on. The gate was so close, the Trapper was too, you could hear him raise his weapon.

You were going to make it! A force struck you from the side, and you thought it may have been the cleaver, but it wasn’t. Ben gave you one pitious look and you pitched to the side. You stuck your arms out to catch your fall and your wrist was seized in a cold and jagged clamp.

“Agh, fuck!” You yelled, watching as ben darted through the gates to safety.

Bastard! He had sacrificed you! Using the splintered plastic of what was left of the flashlight, you pried at the trap. Unlike Feng’s this one was new, well oiled and glinting silver.

A shadow fell over you and you knew this was it. The Trapper, put one foot on either side of the trap and your arm was released, and you clutched it close to your body. Standing shakily to your feet you dodged to the side, but a massive arm wrapped around your bloodied waste, hoisting you onto his shoulder.

Damn it! You didn’t want to die, you had to make it out. You had to remember Ben’s face so you could gouge his eyes out. Anthony too, if he was still alive that is. 

You passed a hook. Was he heading for the basement? You knew your chances were slim there.

Looking to your hands you grasped the splintered flashlight, breaking off a chunk of the plastic. You readied it in your grasp and plunged it deep into the Tapper’s back.

He growled in surprise, and you fell the six feet onto the ground, the impact knocking you out cold.


	2. Bound

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You're captured, and bound. Things are looking grim but you manage an escape, will you survive?

Bleary eyed, you awoke to a pounding headache, along with a sluggish heartbeat in your wrist.

Pain… That meant you weren't dead.

You didn’t know if you should be relieved or horrified; the trial definitely hadn't ended, but there wasn’t a hook in your flesh so that was good. Had the Trapper just left you to bleed out? It seemed unlikely, but maybe he was mad about the whole stabbing thing. Or perhaps he had earned one of those totems, a memento mori.

Those were idols granted to the killers from The Entity, that gave them permission to slaughter a survivors however they pleased.

Mustering the effort to raise your head, you saw a flickering light.

Blinking a few times, you recognized it to be an old oil lantern. Odd. As your vision gradually came back to you, and your eyes opened up to the dark you realized you were in a cabin. It had high wooden walls- no doubt built for someone quite large, and that rustic vibe that comes with handmade constructs.

There were no windows in this room, but the walls weren’t bare, they were actually filled high with various animal mounts. To your left was a wolf; with cunning yellow eyes and it’s lips pulled back in a permanent snarl. Something about it struck you as familiar and you turned away.

Trying to pull your wrist towards the light to examine it, you found yourself bound.

Judging by your seated position, it was to a wooden chair, you wiggled your ankles, finding them free. So it was just your wrists that were tied up. Straining, you tried to struggle free, but it was to no avail.

Ahead you could see some sort of work table, that was strewn about with various tools and metal pieces. On said table were a number of bear traps in varying states of distress; some rusted to hell others new and blood stained, others still sabotaged by a crafty hand.

Eyeing a sharp looking flat end screwdriver, you began inching your chair towards it, when a slam somewhere a few rooms over made you stop. Your heartbeat accelerated when you heard heavy footsteps, and you let your head fall limp, as if you were still unconscious.

Eyes closed, you were acutely aware of the footsteps approaching, and entering the room. The moved around you, and you heard a heavy clank as something was deposited on the table. It took all your effort not to flinch in response.

They then turned, and you could feel their eyes burning into you. A creak in the floor made you think they were crouching before you. You wanted to just take your chances and just headbutt the fucker, but decided against it.

A calloused hand grasped your jaw, lifting your face, and your heart pounded. Your face betrayed nothing. A casual hand brushed the hair from your eyes, before gently touching the tender spot on your forehead where you must have hit the ground first. Unaware of it before, the contact made the area sting furiously, and you consciously bit back a curse.

The man let out an unsatisfied grunt, and let your head fall, before standing and you assumed- turning around.

Clanking and tapping started up, and after a few moments you decided to peak.

Your suspicions confirmed it was The Trapper, and he towered over the workbench before you. What struck you first was that he wasn’t wearing overalls, rather a ragged looking plaid shirt and equally dingy jeans. The second thing you noticed was that his mask was not on his face, rather it was pulled up, so the ‘face’ part was atop his head, peering up at the ceiling with those little black eyes.

He was working on the bear traps, with a new pile set to his left. These were even bloodier and dirtier than the others, no doubt having been out in the field. That must have been what he had set down.

Despite his hulking form, he worked with delicacy, his hands nimbly mending broken pieces. You had to admire the contrast. You looked to his arms, which were heavily muscled enough to make the sleeves of the plaid shirt taunt. You felt a flicker of desire, but quickly doused it by shaking your head, moving your thoughts elsewhere.

It was weird, seeing a killer doing anything besides killing, but that did make sense. You had always wondered what they did while all of you sat around the fire. These were their realms after all.

Gritting your teeth, you looked to the floor, unsure of what to do. Now that he was here, it was going to be all the harder to escape. You twisted your wrist again, testing the rope, and find it a tiny bit loose.

Yes!

You twisted your damaged wrist back and forth, biting back a yelp as the rope dug into your wound. You could feel it bleeding, and it was exactly what you wanted. With a few more turn you felt the sticky substance begin to well further, and you let your hands go limp. Gravity drove the fluid down, and it coated your fingertips.

Now sufficiently doused, you gave them a good tug, the blood lubricating your hand so it slid free of the rope.

Now all you had to do was hold the position until the Trapper left again, and you could get up and walk out a free woman! There was still the whole problem of finding your way out buuuuuuut… That was a problem for later.

As you adjusted your hands to look bound the bloodied rope slipped from your grasp, hitting the floor with a soft thump. It was barely audible through the clanking of metal; but the Trapper seemed to take notice. Ah fuck.

In one swift motion he brought the mask back down, turning to face you. You didn’t even have time to play dead, just stared back at him; unimpressed.

He would probably kill you now that you were awake enough to make it interesting for him. You had accepted that, but if you had to go you would do it with style.

He seemed smug, and dropped again to crouch before you. His head was tilted with amusement. You clenched your good hand behind your back, and just as he raised a hand- you punched him.

It came from your dominant hand and you packed in it all the adrenaline and frustrations today had brought you. The impact was enough to make him stagger, and you were delighted to see his mask was ajar, revealing a bloody portion of his bottom lip.

He growled in response, a deep and resonant sound and you took your chance to stand; wheeling to put the chair between the two of you. He rose slowly, taking on purposeful step in your direction, and you in turn stepped back, hands on the back of the chair. You dragged it, keeping the blocker.

You knew there was a doorway somewhere behind you, just not where. You didn’t dare take you eyes off of him. As he took another step forward, you stepped back, your shoulders bumping the wall; you edged along it slowly.

It was like a very precarious game of ca and mouse. Your eyes never left the mask, and you took another tiny step.

He lunged.

You threw the chair forwards and turned, hitting the side of the doorway before ricocheting into the other room. It was a bedroom, or maybe a living room, with a cot in one corner and a fire in the next. There were wide holes, which acted as windows and you dove for one of those first.

In the other room you heard a violent crash, as the chair splintered underfoot. You hands grasped the edges of the sill and you hoisted one leg out, but before you could escape and iron grasp snagged the back of your shirt, hauling you back in.

You were thrown onto your back, and before you could stand you attacker planted a foot on your stomach. Winded, you coughed, glaring back at him. He removed his foot slowly, and you got up on your elbows.

“No more running.” He said boldly, and you were beyond taken aback.

You had no idea killers could talk.

His voice was a rasping baritone, and it was obvious he didn’t speak often.

You hated to say it, but it sounded nice.

“Then stop chasing me.” You retorted when you found your voice, it was raspy from being winded but you managed to sound brave. He didn’t crouch this time, just waited for you to stand. Which you did with agonizing slowness. You didn’t get his whole game, why didn’t he just hook you, why did he bother with the chair?

You didn’t have chance to ask before being pushed roughly against the wall to you back. It was forceful, but not enough to hurt. Alright, now you were going to die.

You weren’t scared, you had been ready for this since the trial began. But he didn’t immediately move. He pulled one arm back, as if realizing he would need to use his bare hands. In the hesitation you looked up to him, at the mask and his bloodied lip.

He tilted his head downwards ever so slightly and without thinking you moved.  
With tentative slowness you raised a hand to his face, drawing yourself in before placing a kiss on his exposed mouth.


	3. Proven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taken aback by the happenings of the trial, Evan reflects on some distant memories, drawing some conclusions as to why he admires the lone survivor so much.

Fuck.

One hand on the sill, Evan crammed his way through the tiny window hole.

Where had that girl gone?

Glancing side to side, the mountain of a man turned towards the expanse of trees. Behind him a generator thrummed with life, it’s chugging noise almost like laughter. It was mocking, and he frowned deeply behind the mask.

Casting one last scanning glance around the smelter, he proceeded towards a generator near the ruins; which roared to life just as soon as he arrived. Three survivors, which he mowed down without much a second thought.

Despite the massacre, he wasn’t focused on the hunt; but rather… that girl.

It was rare to see a survivor face him without fear; much less confidence. He couldn’t get her out of his head, that smile. So devious, as if she was the one in control.

It reminded him of something…

Of a hunt he had been on.  
Not for survivors, but for meat- a man’s gotta eat after all- wherein he had been trapping rabbits. It was rare for anything else to come stumbling into his realm aside from the odd deer or moose, so they generally sufficed.

That was until one night when he came across all his snares triggered, but with no rabbits. In their wake was just blood and fur. He had been pissed of course, but merely set new traps and lie in wait- closer this time.

When the snare was triggered again early the next evening; he was ready, and he stood by cleaver in hand. Of all the beasts to walk through the brush, he hardly expected a wolf; stocky and tall with intelligent eyes. It was almost as if she knew he was there, as she approached the snare, snatched the rabbit and then backed a few paces away. Making no move to consume the rabbit, she just waited; set in a half crouch almost like a playful dog.

When he had emerged to greet her, she didn’t run, just fixed him with those amber eyes. It was a curious sight, but a thief was a thief.

Raising his cleaver, he hurtled after her, and she turned tail, weaving him through bushes and over logs and under boughs so low he almost had to crouch to make it through. When at last she stopped, she was cornered and instead of cowering she bared her fangs in a mocking snarl.

As soon as he swung the she-wolf dove beneath his arm and away into the night...

A sudden prickling sensation took him from his thoughts, and Evan raised his head towards the disturbance. Something didn’t feel quite right, there was another presence growing, like the Entity but far weaker.

Tracing the source of the sensation, he came to a stop just shy of another generator.  
There were three survivors, two were holding down the third.

They weren’t… fucking were they? Here?

Survivors did a lot of weird shit during the trials, but this...

A muffled gasp escaped the woman and he realized it to be her. As the situation dawned on him he felt a deep blackened rage broiling to the surface. Who the fuck was this bastard to be attacking his survivors. Let alone assaulting them.

With a low growl he approached the frey, leaving no time for reactions. Grabbing the offender he wrapped his hand around the mans face, earning a stifled shout of surprise and anger. Wicked black claws lashed at him, slicing through the flesh of his forearm like a blade through butter.

Without response Evan raised his cleaver, and buried it first through the shoulder of the man, then- in a sawing motion- the rest of the way through, until the other half of his body fell to the side. He released the fowl beasts head, letting the other half drop to the ground.

The blood was inky black. What the fuck was the Entity playing at? Placing another Killer in his territory? Disgusted, he wiped the blood from his hands onto his overalls. It stunk.

Lifting the mask for a moment he spat before trailing the remaining survivors. He could feel the aura of the gate as it beckoned them to freedom.

As the trees thinned he got ever closer, until he could almost grab the last of the survivors; the bearded man. The pig. He raised his cleaver and began to bring it down, when the woman was suddenly shoved into its path. Hesitating, the blow never landed.

Eyes focused on the man, Evan let out a low dissatisfied growl, watching his silhouette disappear. It never stopped surprising him; the cruelty of survivors. The sounds of struggle roused him from his thoughts, and he looked to the girl.

Breathing a resigned sigh, he turned to her, finding her pinned in place. He released the trap with sift experienced hands, and hoisted her up onto his shoulder.

She was limp, perhaps finally done resisting fate.

He was disappointed.

This was no she-wolf just a frightened human like the rest. It had been so long since he had come across a survivor worth hunting, let alone worth setting free.

As he turned towards the basement hooks, he gasped- feeling the sharp jab of plastic in his shoulder muscle. Or maybe he was about to be proven wrong?

* * *

The walk back with the unconscious woman was a long one, but time didn’t seem as slow. Generally, this was impossible; he was never able to leave the arena until the trial was over… yet here he was, three quarters of the way home with his own souvenir.

Perhaps this was the Entity’s way of apologizing for whatever the fuck happened earlier.

Evan breathed an audible grunt of relief as his cabin gradually drifted into view. He had built the building himself, far from any remnants of his old home. Not bothering the unlace his boots, he approached his cot, letting the girl slump onto the surface.

She was breathing, that was good at least. He could have some fun yet.

The air was chilly, so he placed a few logs in the fireplace, before turning to makeshift dresser he had cobbled together. It held all his father's old clothes; they were all that fit him now.

Disregarding the woman he undressed, eager to get the stinking black beast blood off. It reeked like decay, and carried the inflection of being marked by another Killer.

Stepping out of his overalls he instead dawned jeans and a button down. While obviously not freshly laundered, they smelled a hell of a lot better. Somewhere behind him was a soft groan, and he looked to the survivor.

Curled up, she looked almost cute; dwarfed by the sheer size of the cot. He watched her for a moment, before shaking his head suddenly.

Was the fondness? Disgust immediately filled its place and he stomped up the the girl, grabbing her arm roughly, and dragging her unconscious form into the next room. Here was where he repaired all his traps, as well as butchered his meat. Grabbing the chair he usually sat at, he turned it to face his bench.

Turning the woman's torso he sat her in it, roughly binding her bloodied wrists behind her back. She almost looked dead, but the shallow rise and fall of her chest ,ade him sure she lived.

Still disgusted with himself, he turned away stalking back into the night to gather his traps.

* * *

By the time he returned it was the middle of the night, and he was disappointed to see the girl still slumped over like a broken doll. Placing his traps, he dropped to her level, examining her face. A gash crossed her hairline, and he released she must have hit her head when she fell. Initially he figured she had fainted from shock or pain, but this was more concerning. If she had brain damage of some kind, she wouldn't be much use.

He looked over her features, even with her eyes shut she seemed to carry an air of spitefulness. It almost made him smile. But he didn’t.

Rising, her returned to his work, his temper simmering. He hated how drawn he was to this survivor. Like a moth to a candle. He shook his head once, raising his mask as to see his work.

He wouldn't think her like that. No. She was to be his guinea pig; his subject to torment. To loose her into the trap filled woods would be his pleasure. With that in mind, he began mending his contraptions.

Tinkering with the spring of a beartrap, he almost missed the sound of something falling to the floor. Instantly, he was on high alert and he resecurred his mask, rounding to face his prize.

Defiant eyes met his, and he smiled beneath his expressive shield. So she lived.

Crouching, he tilted his head, bemused at the sight of her. He would have his fun after all it seemed. Too bad for her…

Her raised an ill intended hand, only to be met with a shockingly forceful blow to the side of the face. Surprise, anger, and sheer delight at the audacity hit him all at once, and he staggered.

It took him some time to peace together what she had done, and the assessment left him shocked and also bizarrely satisfied.

While bound, she had wounded herself in order to escape. Like a wolf caught in a trap, willing to gnaw her own libs to get free; this girl had worn away at herself just to escape.

He stood slowly, a smile stretching his bloodied lip; this would be fun.


	4. You must be at least this tall to ride this ride

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enter the bone zone >:3

You tasted blood, and as you pulled away from the kiss you knew it blotted your lips. Your mind was blank, and presumably so was your expression.

What in the shitting hell am I doing?

The thought only crossed the surface of your consciousness; you were firmly in the moment. Standing mere inches from you was the Trapper, whom appeared to also be at a loss. Warmth rolled off him in waves, and a well muscled forearm was still barred across your chest, pinning you to the wall. It was studded with shrapnel, none of which thankfully digging into you.

Turning slightly in your direction, he seemed to be studying the situation.

You stole a breath, your expanding chest- causing him to loosen his arm just a bit. Raising your good hand you rested your palm on the back of said arm, like you were going to try to pull him away, although you made no such move.

With the other you used you index finger to hook the the jaw of the mask- right between the fake pointed teeth- pulling him back to you again.

Still curious he permitted it, but that arm was still iron strong. You weren’t going anywhere. You weren't entirely sure you wanted to go anywhere.

Maybe being in the place a long time did things to your hormones.  
You wanted to think it did.  
It was a bit too sad to admit you hadn't gotten laid in god knows how long; being trapped in a nightmare realm does that.

Meeting again in a kiss, you made no effort to be gentle; your lips soft just long enough to get him interested. Once he seemed to ease you deepened it; nipping at his lip as he made to pull away.

His response was immediate, and he dropped the arm across your chest, instead slapping the space beside your head. You didn't flinch, or make any effort to move. With the limb out of the way he pressed closer; and you were both delighted and mildly spooked by the weight of muscle that rested against you.

Enticingly, you slid one leg out from beneath him, running your foot along the back of his calf. With the change of pace, he shifted his weight to one side, pressing his knee between your legs.

A brief noise of surprise escaped your lips, and he growled in response, hiking it up higher. This time you actually gasped, as he raised your form a few inches above the ground. With his free hand he adjusted his mask, straightening it first, then pulling it up just enough that his whole mouth and chin were visible. He was grinning.

Straddling his knee, you frowned, readjusting yourself to be a bit more comfortable - with your legs drawn up so you feet rested again the wall.

“Are you trying to prove something?” You asked, casting your eyes to the black mask holes. It was mildly concerning that he could support your entire body with just one leg, he did not appear to be trying very hard.

Ignoring the question, he kissed you, the contact surprisingly gentle. Allowing it, you let your hands wander up his torso, feeling taunt muscles strain beneath your fingertips. One mischievous hand grasped the the buttons along the plaid, unbuttoning the centermost one, followed by those below it.

His skin was pleasantly warm in contrast to the cool smoky cabin air. Pulling your lips from his, you moved to his neck. He growled again- deeply, as if he was unsure, but you ignored him. Giving him a love bite, you relinquished, a coy smile on your face.

E seemed to be searching your face, but you didn’t look back at him, instead unbuttoning the rest of his shirt. He didn’t stop you.

His chest was broad, and criss-crossed with thick bands of scars. He was hairy, but only enough mottle the skin in swirling patterns.

Shimmying forward, you pressed yourself against him, wrapping your legs around his waist, one arm looped around the back of his neck.

Taking the hint, he placed his non-shrapnel filled arm under your rear to support the weight, and backed away from the wall. Turning in a half circle, he carried you to the cot, where he unceremoniously dropped you.

“Hey!” You mumbled, indignantly sitting up straight. Your face was a pout.

“Do you know what you’re doing?” He rasped, standing just out of your reach.

The question took you by surprise, and you stared back.

“Of course I-” You paused, he was looking at you wrist.

Are you sure you want to fuck the guy who did that to you?

The question seemed to hang in the air. You clenched and unclenched your jaw.

Something told you if you left now he wouldn’t stop you. Whatever it was you needed to prove to him, you succeeded. Your eyes strayed to the door, then back to him.

He took a step back.

You should leave. This man was a killer. He almost killed you; twice.  
And he tied you to a chair, for god knows what reason.

But he also saved you from Ben and Anthony. And spared you from the hook.

You licked your lips, lapping away the drying blood. You needed to go, no matter how aroused you were.

You got up slowly, as if waiting for the Trapper to make a move, but he didn’t. On unsteady legs you stood, taking two steps towards the door. Freedom was only a few feet away, and yet… you didn’t want to go.

It was like every step away tore at something in your core. Maybe the Entity had some kind of hold on you now. Or maybe you were just coming to terms with the fact that you were kind of lonely.

Straightening, you turned back to face him.  
He looked surprised.  
Wasting no time, you stalked towards him; grabbing his hand and towing him towards the cot. Hastily you pushed the small of his back until he relented and sat down.

Good.

Sliding into his lap, you tugged your shirt over you head, tossing the bloodied garment aside.

One hand grabbed his, placing it over your breast.

Taken aback, he made no complaint; kneading it beneath the palm of his hand. Regardless of cup size, he made you feel… kind of small.

Oh well.

Grinding into his hips, you pressed a trail of kisses along his jaw and shoulder, careful to avoid the metal hook that protruded there. As you moved, he grasped your other breat, teasing your nipple with a thumb and forefinger.

A soft moan escaped your lips and he purred a deep rumbling noise. Beneath you he was rock hard. Giving one last teasing grind you backed off.

He seemed disappointed.

Taking a step back you crouched, your hands at the waistband of his jeans. The fabric was strained, enough so that little was left to your imagination.

Expertly, you unclasped the button, and tugged the zipper free.

Casting a teasing glance at him, you found he looked almost apprehensive. He seemed like he wanted to be in control.

Too bad.

Carelessly you removed the offending garments; exposing his erect cock. He was, well, gorgeous and fortunately for you he was also mercifully proportionate. Grasping his length, you gave him a few teasing strokes- the reaction was immediate, and he let out one of those decadent low growls.

You felt almost power hungry. Agonizingly slow, you pumped a few more times, before pausing to place his tip at you lips. Before you could continue, he stopped you, placing a hand on the side of your face.

You tilted your head in confusion. What kind of guy didn’t want head? Leaning over the side of the cot, he put one arm under either of yours, proceeding to lift you from the ground despite the seated position.

God he was strong!

He placed you beside him, and put on hand on your chest, pushing you onto your back. You allowed it, and he stood, crossing the threshold to stand in front of you, he grasped the hem of your pants, and you winced.

You still bore scratches from earlier that day. You stiffened, and he stopped, searching our face. He tilted his head, waiting for you to tell him to stop.

While the memory of what happened was still fresh, you refused to let it dampen your fun. This was entirely on your terms. You were safe.

You nodded for him to continue, and he gently tugged the clothing away. You were both naked now.

He leaned over you, and you wrapped an are around his shoulders tugging him closer. When he climbed back onto the cot you patted the surface. Reluctant, he didn’t seem to want to lay back. He clearly wasn't used to not being the one in control.

You patted the bed again, and he relented, laying back.

Good boy.

You sat on his chest, returning to your prior task. Bringing him back to your lips, you teased him, licking just his tip. Muscles taunting beneath you let you know he was responsive, so you went on licking him from base to head twice before beginning the back and forth motion. You were on four strokes in when he grasped your hips, pulling your form backwards.

“H-Hey!” You began, before gasping. Wetness spread between your legs as his tongue lapped between your thighs. He was teasing at first, moving around your clit but never quite on it. You placed a hand on your mouth to suppress a moan.

He growled, and you felt his mouth meet your sweet spot. You leaned back, feeling the teeth of the mask prick the skin of your rear. You didn’t care. Leaning back, you enjoyed the sensation, momentarily forgetting yourself as your orgasm built.

He gave you no room to break, continuing even after you arked back in a gasp. Blissfulness spotted your vision and you panted.

“Bastard.” You said, your voice breathy, he didn’t stop until several moments after you came. Turning you were met with a firm slap on the ass, before being able to face him again.

Lips drawn in a half pout, you wasted no time easing yourself onto his cock. He let out a half a gasp in surprise. His size coupled with your lack of intercoarse made it a tight fit, and you found yourself almost unable to fully squat.

With renewed vigour, you began to ride him, starting with agonizing slowness. Hands braced either side of your ass, making the motion a bit less tiresome. You gradually picked up the pace, until you were almost gasping- both with exertion and the fact that he was perfectly hitting your G-spot.

You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of making you come twice, but you lost your composure; allowing him to take over to motion as another orgasm overtook you. Sweat coated your skin, and you went limp, allowing him to grasp you side and roll over- finally succumbing to the bottom position.

To your satisfaction, he came only a few paces later; with the politeness to pull out just before cumming. As he finished, he stood, wandering off somewhere to clean up. You were too blissfully tired to care.

Crawling beneath the blankets of the cot you breathed a sigh of contentment. You were probably going to hell for this.

Worth it.

A few moments later he returned, sliding into the cot beside you. It was small, so you ended up three quarters on his chest, not that you minded. As you drifted off to sleep, you were vaguely aware of the fact that he had taken of his mask.

You lay on your side, with your head resting against his peck. He had that arm resting on the small of you back, the other one cupping your face. Through tired eyes you could make out that he was looking at you, something you could only describe as fondness in his eyes. You stuck your tongue out at him, before kissing the skin closest to you and drifting off to sleep.


	5. Good-Bye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reader learns about Evan's not so vibrant past, and discovers her newest enemy is yet to meet his end.

You awoke suddenly, sitting up so fast you had a brief headrush. Where were you? Glancing around the pitch black room; it all returned to you, along with a satisfying soreness of a night well spent.

You hand went you your mouth, keeping any noise from escaping your lips. Part of you had thought this had all been some weird convoluted dream from by the fireside. But no, this had really happened.

Glancing down, you noted that the Trapper was still here. That was a surprise, you had figured he would had vanished to another trial long ago. He was turned away from you, his face bare to the cool night air but just out of your field of view.

It was tempting to sneak a look, but you decided against it. A sliver of moonlight lit a strip of the bed, and you noticed the glimmer of blood. Long thin trails still crisscrossed the Trapper’s skin, from the unfortunate attack the night prior.

Maybe there was something here for it… Taking care to be as quiet as possible, you slid from the Trapper’s waist, feet landing safely and soundlessly on the wooden floorboards.

Treading lightly you snuck across the floor to the dresser, where some other clothes still lay discarded. Atop the heap was a large shirt, of what kind you couldn’t quite make out. Whatever, clothes were clothes. Slipping it over your head, you crossed the threshold to the doorway, crossing into the next room.

Between the room you had been held hostage, and the entrance, there was a small; narrow corridor. It was coated in a layer of cobwebs, which made you guess it had been long since visited. Tiptoeing down the hall, you found it open into a small room.

It was windowless, and you could just see a table-top in the dark. Passing our finger over the surface you found a stick of flint, along with a stone. Picking it up, you gave it one quick strike; the shower of sparks illuminating just enough of the room for you to see a candlestick.

With on more strike you had the small space lit; the flame dancing on the tall walls. On the desk there was no medical supplies, there was however a lump of white cloth, which you began ripping into strips. As you bussied your hands, you turned; taking in the rest of the cramped space.

The air was stale, but even so you took a breath. There were newspaper clipping on the walls; they must have been ancient. The pages were long since yellowed, so frail you thought even your breath would destroy them.

It was the titles that caught your eye.

“MACMILLAN SON CONVICTED OF MASS MURDER”

You had known the Killers had done some bad things to end up here; what surprised you was the name. MacMillan. You knew the MacMillan’s or at least you had heard of them. Your grandparents used to tell stories of a man as big as a bear, who had lost his mind while working under his father.

You had thought they were just silly tales, but apparently they had merit. After gleaning what you could from the scraps you turned away. Shaking your head you retreated, leaving the memories behind.

When you reentered….Evan, was still asleep. Approaching him you left the candle on the floor- giving you just enough light to see the wounds. They weren't exactly greviouse, but seeing as they hadn’t fully clotted yet; you were concerned.

Resting the torn cloth on your knee, you bussied yourself with wrapping it around the worst of the wounds. They were too long to cover at once, so you were choosy with the positioning. Just as you were tying the last ribbon into place; Evan stirred.

He seemed to realize he wasn't alone; and sat up suddenly, a broad hand shooting out to grasp and replace his mask. It was remarkable how fast he could do it. His other hand seized your wrist and you let out a soft gasp of surprise; followed by a grumble of displeasure and pain.

You had assumed the two of you would be on good terms when you awoke; you hadn't considered a change of heart. Locking eyes with the mass of a man, you tugged at your wrist, twice, before his grip finally softened.

Withdrawing your limbs, you sat back; watching as he sat up, examining the makeshift bandages.

“Thanks.” He said after a moment, looking almost sheepish. You nodded, easing yourself to your feet. Subconsciously you hand went to your wrist, picking at the drying blood. In the flurry of hormones you had kind of forgotten about it, but now it was throbbing with pain. Evan’s eyes followed the movement, and he got up; soundlessly passing you by. He stopped to put on the same pair of jeans, before exiting the room.

You were unsure if you should sit or follow…

Before you could decide he returned, with a bucket of water in one hand, and a rag in the other. Giving you no clues as to his intentions, he passed you by, sitting on the bed. Then, with one harm he snagged your waist, pulling you onto his lap in one gesture.

“Hey!” You began; indignantly. Your complaints were met with a deep rumbling bark of laughter.

Regaining your balance, you watched from his knee as he tore the rag in half, soaking on half in the water, before gently taking your hand, and dabbing at your wound. The water was icy cold, but felt surprisingly nice. Letting the old rag slosh into the bucket, he laid the fresh one out, before tying it up in a neat bandage. As he did so he took his time, carefully knotting the whole thing so it would stay. As if he were drawing the action out.

As he concluded, you shuffled around to face him. His shrapnel studded arm coming around to support your back.

His gaze strayed from your face to the bloodied streak on your forehead- left from the fall. Locking his thumb he rubbed the scuff away, not unlike a doting Aunty.

You stuffed a laugh, shaking your head and pressing a brief kiss to the side of his jaw.

Once you were all fixed up he let out a sigh. Moving you aside with ease, he stood again, gathering the clothes that had been shed in the night. He returned yours to you, his eyes glinting.

You accepted them; redressing in all but your shirt.

He gave you a look.

“It’s ripped.” You said, ripping the garment apart.

The shirt you had commandeered from Evan was much more comfortable, and… smelled kind of nice.

He snorted at that, shaking his head.

“C’mon, we should walk back.” He stated, turning away.

You frowned.

“Go back?” You parroted. You didn’t want to go back. You quite liked not being stalked, beaten and maimed.

His shoulders sagged. Evidently he had been hoping you wouldn’t ask.

“The trial hasn’t ended. I can’t proceed until you escape… or… well, you know.” He said with a sigh.

“Oh.” You wilted at his words.

That was fair, you didn't expect to get away this easily. Even still; you liked being here with Evan. At least so far, there was something so… domestic about it. Taking a slow step behind him, you followed him outside.

It was just as dark as when you had left; mist swirling amongst the massive tree trunks. As you took it all in, Evan turned to you, sweeping you up in one motion.

“The path is trapped, this is safer.” He explained, nodding once with resolution.

“Safer, huh?” You teased, wrapping an arm around his neck.

He didn’t respond, but you could sense that he was smiling.

The pair of you tread on for some time. Making idle talk as you walked. Evan was in the middle of describing how to make a snare; when he stopped suddenly. The exit gates were in sight, the rest of the surroundings gradually fading in around you. Crawling around the base of the gate was… a beast.

The criss cross of tendrils that prevented Killers from crossing barred it’s path; and it was angrily lashing at the lattice, showers of embers layering the ground.

The beast itself was hideous; some semblance of a man's head giving way to a maw. The flesh of the head was still there however, stretched taut in a grotesque unnatural way. Like some kind of bad taxidermy.

It was on four legs, the elbows broken so they bent inwards instead of out, along with the knees. It’s hands were blackened and over sized, with long black claws. It was the hands that made you realize it was Anthony. How the hell did he recover from being, well cut in half?

It was almost as if that had finished his transformation- dying that is.

Evan ducked low, gently setting you down.

“Shit.” He muttered, shaking his head. He was at a loss.  
You offered a sidelong glance, before patting his shoulder.

“I’ll distract him and run him near these walls- you set up a trap to immobilize him. Then we can finish him off together.” You directed.

Before you could even finish he was shaking his head. “No. Not a chance, I-“ before he could conclude you took off running.

First slow you picked up the pace as you approached the gate, waving your arms above you. “Hey! You ugly fuck!” You called, hands to either side of your mouth.

Anthony’s head lifted immediately; craning to state in your direction. It let out a bellowing roar, facing you. Running on all fours it began the chase, and you were ready.

Turning heel you rotated on a dime, heading in a zig-zagging line towards the low walls that littered the grass.

A half glance behind you told him he was gaining steadily- faster than any killer you had gone against yet.

Shit!

Cutting the pattern you just went straight, jumping through a window sill and rolling to the left.

The monster followed immediately, the momentum carrying it through the window and face first into the wall.

Taking the opportunity to move, you got to your feet, heading back to where you had stood with Evan.

Rounding the side, you cussed. You could sense a killer was near but you couldn’t tell if it was Evan or Anthony.

Even so; you didn’t know if or where Evan had trapped…

The sound of grass being torn underfoot made you turn, and you ducked just in time to avoid talons in your scalp.

Anthony soared over you, landing hard enough that he lost his footing. Thank god he was inexperienced in this form- or you would have died twice over.

Twisting your body you forced yourself to move, eyes on the ground for any glint of silver. You stuck to bare grassless land- the beast seemed to rely on speed so it was hardly attempting to be careful.

Evan hopefully would have seen this and opted for traps in well worn paths and quick ruites instead of places to hide.

At least you hoped. Being trapped now would be a death sentence.

Just as the thought crossed you, you saw the telltale silver. Slowing your pace, you heard the beast hiss, as if taking breath for a jump.

Dropping to your knees a few precious feet before the trap, you felt the tiniest nick of claws grazing your skin- followed by the snap of a trap.

A jagged screech left Anthony’s mangled jaws, and you scrambled backwards, narrowly missing being clawed.

Like a mountain in the dark Evan rose behind the beast; bringing the cleaver down in one massive slice.

To your sickened surprise it didn’t pass cleanly through, instead stopping a third of the way into the monsters shoulder.

Just like that it spun; jaws seizing Evan’s leg- just above the knee.

“Evan!” You gasped, looking left and right for something- anything you could use as a weapon.

A splintered board from a palette lay a few feet away and you fumbled for it. With two hands you rose it above your head- driving t down with all your force into the back of Anthony’s neck.

This caused him to release his grip, sputtering and retching inky blood.

Evan wasted no time, yanking his weapon from it’s unfortunate sheath and raising it again-this time finishing the job.

When Anthony finally hit the ground his body seemed to burn up- being taken away by the Entity.

“What the hell were you thinking?” Evan growled, no sooner than the beast had fallen.

You didn’t say anything, just grabbed him in hug- shaking your head.

He berated you a moment longer, before picking you up in a grand hug.

You placed a kiss in his mask, which he moved aside for proper contact.

Behind you there was an ominous clank, as the exit gates slowly began to close.

He broke away first, gently dropping you back into your feet.

“I guess this is it?” You began glancing over your shoulder.

He nodded, his gaze clouded.

“We should do this again sometime; besides- there still one asshole out there.” You said, lips parted in a toothy grin.

“It would be my pleasure.” He bent at the waist in a bow to you and you offered him curtsy, the hem of the all too big shirt your makeshift dress.

With that you left.


End file.
